


naked as his nameday

by salazarsslytherin



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Hand Jobs, Just bros being bros, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 01:11:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14706293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salazarsslytherin/pseuds/salazarsslytherin
Summary: Bronn tries to buy Jaime a whore for his nameday; Jaime isn't impressed.





	naked as his nameday

Bronn only found out because he overheard two drunken men talking about it.  He was leaning across a bar counter, coin in hand ready to buy a bit of meat and bread to take with them once they started out again, but with the innkeep busy his attention had drifted.

“Did you say there’s gonna be a tourney?” Bronn interjected, turning to face the men who were lounging at a table with a flagon each of mead.  This was the first he’d heard of anything like that and it took him by surprise; the world was at war, after all.  They didn’t really have time for games any more.  

One of the men eyed Bronn suspiciously for a moment but his companion must’ve had more to drink because he grinned loosely.  “‘S’right,” he nodded.  “Queen Cersei’s holding one for her nameday.  Winner at the joust gets a hundred gold and winner in the melee’s to be given a lordship.”

Bronn allowed one eyebrow to curve upward.  “Bad timing, ain’t it?  Not many left in King’s Landing.  Didn’t even know it was her nameday.”  Jaime hadn’t mentioned it.  

“Not yet,” the second man put in.  “It’s three days hence.  That’s when the tourney starts.  You ain’t putting in for it, then?” he asked, his gaze passing warily over Bronn and the weapons he currently had strapped to him.

Bronn pretended to think on it for a moment.  “Might,” he lied.  “A lordship, you say?”

“Aye,” the man said.  “And a hundred gold for the tilts.”

“I ain’t a jousting man, myself,” Bronn told him honestly.  “A lordship’d be a pretty prize, though.”  That was what Bronn had been chasing all this time, what he’d nearly had in his grasp several times over only for it to be snatched away at the last second.  Now he was travelling north with a disgraced Lannister and precious little else—a lordship had never been so far from reach, and yet not a bit of him was tempted to turn back the way he’d come.  

Bronn turned away from the men like he was lost in thought and kept half an ear out to make sure they went back to their conversation and lost interest in him.  _Three days_.  Bronn didn’t know _much_ about namedays—they were more of a highborn tradition—but he’d been around highborns enough to have picked up the basics.  There were usually celebrations, feasts, and gifts involved.  He was rather limited for options given his and Jaime’s travelling situation but he could do _something_ ; the miserable cunt could do with cheering up.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“ _Why_ are we riding so hard?” Jaime demanded three days later, coming up beside Bronn as he finally slowed the relentless pace he’d set for the last Jaime didn’t know _how_ long.  “The horses are going to be exhausted.”  

Which Bronn had learned was Jaime’s way of saying that _he_ was tired and didn’t want to admit it.  “Storm coming in,” he said wisely.  “The bar wench at that last place said there’s an inn ‘bout four days ride this way but I reckon we’ll make it there in the next few hours.”  They ought to; he’d been steadily increasing their pace since they left the previous inn to make sure they arrived tonight.  There was _supposed_ to be more of a town up ahead, though whether it remained after all that had occurred lately was anyone’s guess.  Bronn hoped so because he knew _just_ the thing to cheer Jaime up, and you couldn’t exactly buy it out on the road.  

Jaime frowned at him.  “You’ve never stopped at an inn for a storm before.”  They’d shivered their way through more than he could count since starting out from King’s Landing.  

“This one’s gonna be bad,” Bronn assured him.  “C’mon, we need to keep moving.”  He set off again without another word, leaving Jaime to follow behind.

He did slow down a little, keeping them at a swift speed but not so quick that Jaime took to complaining again.  He’d been over-cautious anyway; the town came into sight just a couple of hours later, when the sun was only beginning to dip below the horizon.

“See,” Bronn said smugly, reining up and pointing ahead.  The town looked in good shape; most houses were still standing soundly and those few that weren’t were clearly in the process of being rebuilt.

“It’s fared well,” Jaime said in some surprise.  “It looks better populated than King’s Landing.”

“I doubt the inn’ll be as cosy as your lordling’s rooms back home, though,” Bronn said, nudging his horse onward once again.

He could practically _hear_ Jaime rolling his eyes from behind.  

“I’m sure it will be more comfortable than tree roots and snow,” Jaime said, trotting alongside Bronn now that the end of the day’s ride was well within sight.  “Warmer, too.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve been _cold_ ,” Bronn retorted.  They’d been sharing blankets since the temperature had really started dropping and Bronn slept all the better now that Jaime’s teeth had stopped chattering through the night.

“I wouldn’t call it _warm_ ,” Jaime muttered.

Bronn snorted.  “Just you wait ‘til we get proper north, you won’t know what’s hit ya.”  

Jaime didn’t reply to that; he was worried that Bronn had the right of it.  He’d only ever been north in the summertime and it had been unbearably cold even then.  They had summer _snows_.  

Snow.  In _summer_.  

“You’ll be plenty warm tonight, anyway,” Bronn said after a moment, tossing a smirk Jaime’s way.

Which was true, so Jaime wasn’t going to complain.  It was risky to stop at an inn and be seen but with luck, people would have bigger things to worry about than whether or not they really had just seen the Kingslayer.  They ought to be far ahead of any Lannister forces that might be out looking for Jaime, as well—they could afford one night of luxury.  Especially tonight.  Jaime had been trying very diligently _not_ to think about what today was as it only reminded him of all he’d lost, but if he was going to indulge in warmth and a real bed, it may as well be on his nameday.  He was sure Cersei would be—

 _Don’t think about her_.  That way lay only ruin.  

Tyrion, he could think about Tyrion.  He would see his brother soon enough, and though anger still lingered in Jaime when he thought of the other man, it had been dulled lately by the pressing concern of everything else.  It was difficult not to forgive him when he was the last family Jaime had left.  Cersei would have him killed if she saw him, the children were gone, his father slain, Kevan ashes, mother long dead.  All he had left was Tyrion.

“Y’know if the wind changes, your face’ll freeze that way.”

And Bronn, Jaime realised as he looked over at the other man.  Despite everything, Bronn was somehow right here with him.  

“What way?” Jaime asked, blinking himself out of his reverie.  They were outside the inn, the ride through the town having passed Jaime by completely.

“All sad and pathetic,” Bronn told him bluntly.  “This is the place.  You get the horses sorted and I’ll go and see about a room,” he said, sliding from his mount and tossing the reins to Jaime.  “I’m gonna say our names are Cooper and Darnell again, if anyone asks.”

Jaime gratefully slid off his own horse, thighs protesting as he straightened his legs, and took Bronn’s reins without complaint.  It was easier to let Bronn deal with the innkeepers and bar patrons; Jaime was more at risk of being recognised.  “Don’t you need gold?” 

“Nah,” Bronn waved him off, already starting toward the entrance.  “I’ll sort it.”  He disappeared through the door a second later, so he didn’t see the mystified look Jaime fixed on him as he walked away.  Bronn had never offered to pay for anything the entire time Jaime had known him.  In fact, Jaime hadn’t even known that Bronn had any gold on him— _Jaime_ had been paying for everything with what little he’d brought with him.  

Shaking his head and determining to make sure they split money more evenly from now on, Jaime led both horses around the back of the inn to the stables to get them settled for the night.  It would be a nice break for them, too, to have shelter from the wind and real hay to eat for once.  

Once they were safely in stalls, Jaime pulled his hood up and made his way to the inn itself, edging through the crowd of drinking, gambling men to find that Bronn had already secured them a table.

Jaime reached it at the same time as the barmaid bearing a tray with two bowls of stew, two cups of ale, and more bread than Jaime had seen in weeks.  He hadn’t realised until exactly that moment just how hungry he was; he fell upon the food like a starving man, neither of the two men talking at all while they ate their fill, and more.  The barmaid came over to refill their bowls and cups twice before they were done and Jaime sat back, feeling pleasantly full and warm for the first time in...a long while.  Since before he left King’s Landing, if he thought about it hard enough, which he tried not to.

“Best not stay down here too long,” Bronn said lowly once they were finished, bowls and goblets empty.  “Keep you out of sight.”

It would have been nice to sit down here and have another drink or five and forget that this was the first nameday in years and years that Jaime had spent without Cersei, but Bronn was probably right.  It was best not to risk being seen, and it would be wise to catch up on sleep and rest now while they could.  It was delightfully warm inside despite the snow and apparent oncoming storm; fires roared cheerfully in the braziers and the number of people crammed inside meant the air was stuffy and close, quite the opposite to the biting sting of cold outside.    

“Got separate rooms as well,” Bronn grinned, holding up two keys.  “Last they had empty - lucky, eh?”

“Very lucky,” Jaime agreed, reaching for the key Bronn offered him and not exactly feeling it.  It was ridiculous, he knew, but he’d grown used to having company through the night now and he knew his dreams would be restless and fretful without anyone else there.  Jaime was no stranger to nightmares, though, and Bronn deserved a peaceful night.  He probably wanted to find a woman, get some distance from Jaime while he could.  They would be back on the road tomorrow with nary a comfort to be found, he should take what he could tonight.  _Bronn_ could go back downstairs and drink and dice—nobody knew who he was, so there was no reason why not.  

Jaime would just call for wine and drink himself into sleep—he’d feel it in the morning but at least his night would be dreamless.  Hopefully it would also help in dulling the insistent ache of sadness that was creeping through him as he started upstairs, an ache Jaime knew would grow unbearable once he was alone and there was no-one left to pretend for

“Number three,” Bronn said from behind him as followed Jaime up.  

Jaime glanced back as he spoke and caught the grin on Bronn’s face as he did so.  “What?” 

Bronn’s grin widened and he gestured at the door.  “Number three, I said.  Oh, and happy nameday.”

Jaime stopped then, stopping to look at Bronn in stunned disbelief.  “How in seven hells…?”

“Heard someone talking about it a while back,” Bronn explained, unable to hide how very pleased with himself he was.  

“About my _nameday_?” Jaime asked.

Bronn shrugged.  “Well, the queen’s,” he said.  Jaime’s expression immediately went all pinched and stiff, which was the exact opposite of what Bronn wanted.  “Go on in, then.  I arranged a present for you, too—that’s what you do for these things, ain’t it?”

Jaime looked like he had more to ask or say but his curiosity evidently got the better of him because instead of piping up, he simply opened the door.  Then froze.

For a moment, Jaime only stared in shock through the open door, because the room was already occupied, and it was occupied by a naked woman lounging across the bed and looking right at him.

“Hello, handsome,” she drawled.

“Sorry,” Jaime said hastily, nearly crashing into Bronn as he quickly back-tracked and slammed the door shut again.

“Whoa,” Bronn said, planting a hand firmly between Jaime’s shoulder-blades to steady him.  “What’s wrong?  I thought you liked blondes?”

“I—she’s—did you arrange _this_?” Jaime demanded, swinging around with wide eyes.  

“Aye,” Bronn said.  “For you.  She’s your gift.”

“A _whore_?” Jaime hissed, glancing quickly back at the closed door before he grabbed Bronn’s elbow and dragged him several steps down the hallway so they weren’t in earshot.  

“Yeah?” Bronn returned, frowning.  “Look, your issue right now is that you’re all...pent up,” he said, waving a hand at Jaime.  “A good fuck’ll sort you out, get it all out your system.  Tyrion would’ve got you the same.”

“Tyrion would’ve gotten me a _book_!” Jaime said indignantly.  “He always gets me a book!  I’ve no interest in whores!”

“Well, you’ve no fuckin’ interest in reading, either,” Bronn said flatly.  He knew _that_ for a fact.  “And there’s not many libraries around here.  What’s the matter with you?  She’s a fine girl, that one, and you’ve got all night in a nice, warm bed with her.”

Jaime just gaped at him.  “I don’t _want_ to be in a bed with her,” he gritted out.  “Why don’t _you_ go in there and have her if you want her so much?”

“‘Cause she’s _your_ nameday gift!” 

“I’m not even _celebrating_ my nameday,” Jaime snapped at him.  “You weren’t supposed to know.  _You_ don’t do namedays, stop trying to act above your station, you’re a _sellsword_ —”

Bronn shoved him and Jaime’s shoulders hit the wall opposite, cutting him off.

“Don’t you start being a cunt to me,” Bronn growled at him, crowding him against the wall with a scowl.  “I did you a nice thing, you can fuckin’ say _thank you_ , you ungrateful shit.”

“I never _asked_ for—”  Jaime stopped talking abruptly as the door down the hall opened and the whore stepped out, naked as her own nameday and looking almost as annoyed as Bronn did.

She glanced between the two of them, and Bronn took a swift step back from Jaime.  

“It’s extra for both,” she said boredly.

“No, thank you,” Jaime said primly.  “Your...services aren’t required.  You may go.”

She didn’t move and Jaime looked over at her, drawing himself up to his full height.  “I said—”

“I heard you,” she told him, unbothered.  “This here’s my room, so _you_ may go, if you think you’re too good to take a _whore_ like me.”  

Jaime went still, realising too late that he’d offended her by turning her down.  

“Perhaps you bought wrongly, _ser_ ,” she added, her gaze turning to Bronn, the title somehow mocking.  “The only men who’ve ever turned me down are incapable—”  

Jaime bristled.  “I’m not—”

“Or pillow-biters,” she finished, and Jaime’s mouth snapped shut a second before the room door did, leaving he and Bronn alone in the corridor once more. 

Bronn let out a little chuckle at her outburst.  “She’s feisty,” he said approvingly.  “Shame—reckon she’s more like to bite your cock off than anything else after that.”  He stopped when he turned back to Jaime and noticed his face, which had turned charmingly pink.  “What’s the matter with you?  You’re _not_ incapable, are you?”

Jaime only glared in response, which was fair enough; an entire war had been started because he’d fathered children, after all.  Bronn assumed he was more than capable.  Then he frowned.

“ _Did_ I buy wrong?” he asked suddenly.  “Do you prefer men?”  

“No!” Jaime protested at once, flustered.  “I don’t prefer _anyone_ , I just _don’t_ want a whore, I don’t need to _fuck_ my way through every situation.”

Bronn loved the way Jaime said swear words, like his mouth wasn’t _quite_ used to them, or like he’d never really forgotten childhood lessons telling him that good highborn boys didn’t use words like that.

“Maybe you don’t need to, but it feels _good_ , Jaime, you should try it,” Bronn told him.  “Get that fuckin’ stick out your arse and enjoy yourself every once in a while.  There’s probably some men downstairs willing to bed you for a couple coins.”

“ _Bronn_!” Jaime seethed.  “Keep your _voice_ down.”

Bronn only laughed at his anxiousness.  “Well, it ain’t a proper nameday without a good fuck, is it?”

“How would _you_ know?” Jaime fired back.  “Is that honestly _all_ you think about?”

“It is when I just spent good fuckin’ coin on a woman you aren’t even gonna have,” Bronn said.  He walked down the corridor to another door, this one marked number four, and paused once he’d unlocked it.  “You may as well come in here, ain’t no way she’s letting you in there with her tonight.  Fuckin’ waste of my coin, you are.  Bloody _Lannisters_ ,” Bronn was muttering to himself as he stomped inside.  

Jaime hesitated in the corridor, not entirely sure that he wanted to spend the evening with Bronn if Bronn was only going to mock him.  But...the alternative was sitting out here alone for the rest of the night and Jaime fancied that even less, so he followed the sellsword in short order.  

Bronn had already started busying himself taking off his sword belt and dagger sheaths, kicking off his boots and washing his face in the bowl of cold water.

Jaime stopped in the doorway.  “There’s only one bed,” he pointed out.  

“So?” Bronn returned.  “We’ve been pretty close the past few nights, princess, it won’t kill ya.”

“Didn’t you...don’t you…”  Jaime waved his good hand, fumbling for the right amount of indifference.  “Don’t you want a woman for yourself?  In here?” he asked eventually.

Bronn arched an eyebrow on him.  “You just gonna lie there and close your ears while I fuck her next to you, are you?”

Jaime scowled but his face was turning red again.  “I can wait downstairs,” he said.  

“So people can spot you and cart you back to King’s Landing?  I don’t think so,” Bronn told him.  He yanked off his leather jerkin and both his thick, outer tunic and the thinner one he wore underneath; it was warm enough inside that he could get away with it and it was nice to have his full range of movement back, to feel air against his skin again.  “I suppose you’ll die of embarrassment if I take these off, too,” Bronn said after a moment, tugging at the waistband of his breeches.

Jaime’s eyes went wide and skipped rapidly from Bronn’s trousers to his unclothed chest to his face then back down and away again.  “Well it wouldn’t exactly be proper,” he said, turning away and fumbling to undo his own sword-belt.

“Would’ve thought that someone with _no preference_ might’ve seen a naked man before,” Bronn mused.

Jaime swung around sharply.  “That’s _not_ what I meant by that!” he said quickly.

Bronn held his gaze.  “Isn’t it?”

Jaime wasn’t good enough at lying to deny it a second time.  Heat rose steadily in his cheeks as he dropped Bronn’s look, busying himself with leaning his sword against the wall and toeing out of his boots.  He set them neatly side by side before stripping out of his outer layers, deliberately keeping his back turned.  

“Surely this can’t be... _Jaime Lannister_ is _embarrassed_?” Bronn spoke up from behind, laughter colouring every word as he flopped back onto the bed.  

“I’m not embarrassed,” Jaime countered at once, half-turning back to spare Bronn a quick glance—the most he could achieve without becoming overly aware of how hot his face had become.  He crossed the room to pour himself some water and drank the whole cup in one go.  “I’ve no interest in _gossip_.  You can think what you like about me.”

“Ain’t like I’ve got a problem with it,” Bronn said casually.  “Men go to war, men have needs.”  He shrugged.  “It happens.  It’s good.  Just never realised you were into it.  Shoulda known, though,” Bronn added casually.

Jaime turned back then and arched his eyebrows in the most dignified manner he could muster.  “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” he demanded.

Bronn snorted.  “You know exactly what I mean.”  Any man who’d bed his own sister wasn’t exactly likely to have many other qualms about his lovers.  Besides which, Bronn had heard Jaime talk about Arthur Dayne, and he’d seen the way he’d watched the Red Viper, and suddenly ‘ _Not my type_ ’ made a _lot_ more sense to Bronn.  He ought to have seen it a lot sooner.  Shame he hadn’t; their trip through Dorne could have been _much_ more enjoyable.

“I don’t,” Jaime said firmly, though he knew very well what Bronn meant.  He just didn’t want to think about...any of that.  Anything.  Any _one_.  He didn’t want to _think_ and he especially didn’t want to listen to Bronn _mock_ him for the remainder of the night.  “I’m going to go downstairs,” Jaime announced.  “If you could let me know when you’re done with foolish gossip, I’d be grateful.”

Bronn laughed again, but he sat up as Jaime actually made to head for the door.  “Alright, alright!  Don’t go downstairs, you fuckin’ idiot.  Get into bed, we both need to rest.  I won’t tease you any more if you’re gonna get all prissy about it.”

Jaime bristled at that and tried a glare, sure that his face had cooled enough now for it not to look as ridiculous as it would have a few minutes ago.

“Promise,” Bronn said, putting his hands up.  He was still smirking but Jaime thought that was probably the best he was going to get.

He turned away from the door and settled carefully on the side Bronn had left for him.  They’d shared bedrolls and blankets for weeks now but this suddenly felt charged, like Jaime was holding a breath without meaning to.  He forced himself to relax, letting his head loll against the wall behind.

“Aren’t you gonna take that off?” Bronn asked, jerking his head at the golden hand.  “You _know_ I don’t care if you do, don’t be a fuckin’ martyr.”

Jaime did know, and yet every night he waited for Bronn to say so before he actually pulled the ties loose and removed the thing.  He set it aside and rubbed at the wrist underneath, wincing as blood began flowing through it properly.  As he lay down, he shook his sleeve down over the stump so he wouldn’t have to look at it any more.

At his side, Bronn lay down as well and a mildly uneasy quiet fell between them.  During their travels, the pair of them had become masters at companionable silences when there was nothing else to say, or when they were both too tired to bother speaking.  This wasn’t that, though.  Jaime was half on edge, waiting for Bronn to say something, because he could _sense_ somehow that he was going to.

It wasn’t Bronn who broke the quiet, however.  It was the sound coming from next door.

Bronn huffed.  “Seems like she found someone who wanted her tonight after all,” he said, one eyebrow curving upward as the unmistakable moans and creaks crept through the thin wall separating them from the next room.

Jaime let out a quiet groan, throwing his left arm over his face as the two voices, one high and feminine, the other deeper and more throaty, got louder.  _Gods_ , this was the last thing he needed while in bed with _Bronn_.  

“At least _someone’s_ enjoying your nameday gift,” Bronn said pointedly.

“Well _why_ would you buy me a _whore_?” Jaime demanded incredulously.  “When have I _ever_ shown any interest in whores?”

“I was _buying_ you a good fuck, didn’t realise you’d care so much where it bloody well came from,” Bronn said, rolling his eyes.  “Thought it’d be nice, get you to loosen up a bit.  Do you ever even see to yourself?  I’ve never noticed.”

“ _Bronn_!” Jaime said sharply, flushing again.  He kept his arm over his face so it wouldn’t become obvious.  

“What?  It’s a human need, Jaime, there’s no need to be embarrassed by it.  I do it all the time when you’re asleep.”  

 _Not_ an image that helped Jaime with the _problem_ that was fast presenting itself in his breeches.

Bronn paused for a moment.  “ _Can_ you even?  With that hand?  Gods, is that why you’re such a bitch half the time?”

Jaime turned roughly onto his side, as much to hide his face from Bronn as it was to hide any evidence of his growing arousal.  “ _Shut up_ ,” he ground out.  He hoped next door finished themselves off quickly.

Bronn snickered quietly, but the absence of his talking only made the sounds coming from the next room all the more distinct, no longer just a background awareness but now undeniably the slap of flesh, a groan of pleasure, a kiss.  Jaime didn’t _mind_ —people _did_ have needs, after all.  But it was impossible to tune out or ignore, especially given all Bronn’s talk and the lingering embarrassment from the conversation that had been at hand.

“If you can’t…” Bronn said consideringly, and Jaime felt the bed shift as Bronn propped himself up on an elbow, “might be you could find someone to help out.”

Jaime’s breath escaped him all of a sudden and he held himself carefully, painfully still.  He didn’t say anything.  He told himself he was simply not gracing Bronn with a reply, but frankly he wasn’t sure _what_ he would have said, and didn’t trust it to come out sounding as dignified as he wanted it to. 

“It _is_ your nameday, after all,” Bronn said thoughtfully.  “And you’ve been a bratty little cunt for days now.  You need summat to loosen you up, Kingslayer, even if you wanna deny it.  Someone who knows how to _handle_ you.  Of course you don’t want a whore—even if you weren’t all proper about that sorta thing, that’s not really your style, is it?”

One look at the way the damned queen was with Jaime would tell anyone all they needed to know about who exactly drove _that_ relationship, and the only other woman Jaime’d ever shown the slightest interest in was about the only one in Westeros capable of knocking him flat on his golden ass.  

No, Jaime _did_ have a preference.

Bronn reached over and grabbed his hip, praying his hunch was correct, and yanked Jaime around to lie flat on his back.

Jaime didn’t fight the sudden motion but he stared defiantly at Bronn as he rolled over, jaw set, and Bronn didn’t ask questions or make suggestions; he reached beneath the covers to find Jaime’s crotch and squeezed, not gently.  He was right; Jaime was already hard and he gasped when Bronn touched him, his chin jutting up and exposing his throat.

“You want this?” Bronn asked him, shifting closer.  “I’ll give it to you, Kingslayer.  Seeing as it’s your nameday and all.”  And because he was the prettiest man Bronn had ever come across; frankly, any opportunity would do.  

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jaime let out, his knees coming up as he absorbed the feeling of Bronn’s hand on him.  

Bronn leaned in with a smirk, scraping his beard along Jaime’s jaw.  “I’ll give you that, too, if you want.”

“This is...going to ruin everything,” Jaime said breathlessly.  He didn’t try to twist away from Bronn’s touch, though, not even when Bronn increased the pressure and pressed his palm more firmly into him.  

“Why’s that?” Bronn asked, sitting up properly and using his other hand to gently tug Jaime’s knee and widen the gap between his thighs.

Jaime let him.

Bronn continued when Jaime didn’t voice any protest, letting go of him to open the lacings of his breeches before he paused.  Jaime had been avoiding his gaze until then, but when Bronn’s hands went still his eyes flickered to him, questioning, and Bronn grinned triumphantly.

“If you want me to stop,” he said once he had his attention, slowly tugging Jaime’s breeches down enough to free his cock, “I will.  But if you don’t tell me to stop, I’m not gonna.”

Jaime was breathing hard already and his throat clicked as he swallowed, notably silent, and Bronn took him properly in hand then.  

“Gods,” Jaime rasped out, arching up into his grip, his left hand fisting in the sheets.  

He was very sensitive, even for a posh little highborn lordling.  

“How long’s it been, Lannister?”  

Too long, Bronn would wager.

“Ages,” Jaime surprised him by answering, shuddering as Bronn took his hand away to spit into his own palm and make it slick.  

 _Fuck_.  

The sound of it, the sight—it shouldn’t have been arousing, but it was, and the _feel_ of it against his cock when Bronn took him in hand again, making a fist around him.  Jaime bit down hard on his lip, trying to calm his breathing some.  Even Arthur had never been like that—he’d been a Kingsguard, he’d been highborn, raised _properly_.  Everything Bronn wasn’t; Bronn who’d take a piss while Jaime stood the breadth of one tree away, talking over his shoulder to him.  Who’d wipe blood off his sword on his own clothing.  Who’d use his own _spit_ to slick Jaime’s cock before working him up and down with a rough, calloused hand, the pressure firm and steady and so _nearly_ too much—and him there smirking like he _knew_ it was nearly too much, and that was why he was doing it.

Jaime arched up into the fist that was so tight around him, the hand that was so much bigger than Cersei’s, bigger even than Jaime’s own—something undeniably _different_ , undeniably _Bronn_ and not some faceless stranger Jaime had conjured up in his mind to see himself through.

He was torn between squeezing his eyes closed and giving himself over to the simple pleasure of it and none of the complications that came of this being his _friend_ , a _man_ , but Jaime couldn’t tear his gaze from where Bronn had hold of him, the way his cock _looked_ in his hand.  

Bronn’s thumb slid along the tip and everything in Jaime clenched, body jerking taut as a bowstring as he fought for control of himself for just a few moments more.  

“Not yet,” Jaime managed to get out, strangled, and he tried to sit up, though Bronn didn’t loosen his grip.  “Not so much, Bronn— _please_ —

Bronn laughed at him but his fingers went loose for a minute and he busied himself instead with getting Jaime’s breeches the rest of the way off before settling himself properly between Jaime’s legs, the tops of his thighs pressed firmly against the backs of Jaime’s.  It was the perfect position from which to lean in and push him back down, scrape his teeth along the bared throat, knowing as he did that Jaime’s legs would be burning from the ache of being pushed apart as they were.  

The thought pleased Bronn enormously; he hoped Jaime’s stance on the horse tomorrow reflected what they’d done here tonight.

“Don’t worry, princess, I’m taking it slow,” Bronn assured him, his voice low and muffled against Jaime’s neck, then his shoulder as he tugged his shirt aside enough to reach it.  He’d toyed with the idea of fucking Jaime when this first occurred to him but it was obvious that Jaime wouldn’t last anywhere near long enough to get to that tonight.  Another time, maybe.

Bronn trailed his fingers lightly over the insides of Jaime’s thighs and back along his cock, feeling Jaime shiver uncontrollably beneath him as he did so.  Still too close to the edge to start stroking him properly again.  

“Open up,” Bronn directed, tapping Jaime’s lips with his index finger.  He’d expected some kind of hesitance or at least a questioning look but Jaime’s lips parted immediately and Bronn slid his finger inside, his own eyes fluttering closed at the sensation—hot and wet and _Jaime_ , that was _Jaime fucking Lannister’s mouth_.  Fucking hell, which god did he need to give a sacrifice to to get those lips around his cock?  “Fuck, you feel good,” Bronn told him raggedly. 

Jaime groaned at that, tipping his head back even more and his mouth opened a bit as he panted for breath, then Bronn nearly finished in his own breeches because Jaime _sucked_ , not particularly hard but _fuck_ , he hadn’t been expecting that.  It was probably a good thing it was just his finger in there and not his cock because it would have been over right then otherwise and Jaime was probably the sort of person to bitch if he got seed down his throat or—Gods forbid—on his pretty face, and—

 _Seven fucking hells, don’t think about that image_.  Not yet, anyway.  Bronn would certainly be revisiting that thought next time he took himself in hand, wondering what it’d take for Jaime to let him finish like that, in him, _on_ him.  

Pulling his finger back and also committing the wet, sucking sound it made to memory, Bronn distracted Jaime with his mouth once again as he dipped his hand back between his legs. 

Ignoring Jaime’s cock for now, Bronn ran a finger between the cheeks of Jaime’s ass and pushed at his entrance, feeling Jaime jump beneath him as though he’d been stabbed.

Jaime yanked back from the kiss, blinking blearily at Bronn, his eyes getting wider and wider as he registered the pressure he was feeling, the sensation of Bronn pressing into him, just the tiniest bit.  His face was burning hot but his eyes were bright, pupils blown wide and black.  

“You—are you—” Jaime struggled to get out, panting.  “ _There_?” he asked eventually, breathless.

“Aye,” Bronn said, nodding and capturing Jaime’s mouth for a few more seconds.  “Just my finger.  Think you can take it, princess?  Gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

Jaime swallowed hard, nodding vigorously even as nerves tightened his belly—the sensation felt inherently _forbidden_ , too private, too _much_ , but that only made Jaime more desperate for it, for that _breach_ , that fullness.

Bronn grinned down at him, pleased, and obliged.  He was slow, careful with it, with Jaime.  Something in him, an almost overwhelming part of him, wanted to just shove and _have_ , see how much Jaime could take—and Bronn was sure he could take a fucking pounding, if Jaime on the battlefield was anything to go by.  But it wasn’t the time for that, not when he was just testing the water with him, pressing gently at Jaime’s boundaries to see just where they gave in to him.

He worked slowly up to the first knuckle but Jaime was tense and it was making him too tight, even for just a finger.

“Relax,” Bronn breathed, pulling away from Jaime’s mouth and kneeling up so he could use his free hand to run it along Jaime’s thigh.  “Just relax, Jaime.  Let it in.”

“I’m _trying_ ,” Jaime retorted, chest heaving with each breath.  

Bronn rubbed gently at Jaime’s leg again, slowly back and forth, not trying to gain any more ground with his ass just yet—there wasn’t much point until he’d loosened up a bit more.

“Relax here, Jaime,” Bronn told him, gently tapping at his thigh.  “Relax your legs for me, come on.”

Jaime met his eyes briefly before closing them and Bronn could see his shoulders go first, tension slowly melting from them before he managed to force his legs to co-operate as well.  The pressure around Bronn’s fingertip lessened but he didn’t push forward for a few more seconds, letting Jaime settle first.

“That’s it,” Bronn said.  “That’s perfect.”  The words seemed to help, too, Jaime’s body going slightly more boneless as he let out a soft sigh.

Bronn pressed in once more, pausing but maintaining the pressure as Jaime tensed again.

“You gotta keep relaxed, princess, focus on it, keep yourself loose for me or we’ll never get it in,” Bronn coached him, putting his weight on his hand so he could lean down and start kissing him again.

He could feel it as Jaime tried to follow the instruction, pleased when after a few moments he had the leeway to push further in, now easily at the second knuckle, enough buried inside that Bronn could crook his finger a bit.  He did so and Jaime gasped, eyes flying wide open, his left hand coming up to grab Bronn’s shoulder.  

“Feel good?” Bronn asked him.

“Yes,” Jaime gasped, sounding surprised.  He focused and Bronn felt him relax more, giving him the ground he needed to push the rest of the way.  He was almost more aroused by the look and feel of Jaime deliberately trying to relax himself to allow Bronn passage than he was by the feel of the act itself.

He worked his finger back and forth to ensure Jaime was good and open for it before he changed the pressure, rubbing from the inside, bending and wriggling it as much as he could.  Jaime’s thighs pressed tight around him and he tried to push down, to sit more deeply into Bronn.

“‘Bout time we see to this, don’t you think?” Bronn asked him, sitting up to finally take hold of Jaime’s cock once more.  

“Yes, _yes_ ,” Jaime encouraged him, his head thrown back wildly, sweat beading on his face and neck.  “Fucking, _Gods_ —”

It was never going to last long after that.

Bronn stroked him a few times, his grip harsh and heavy-handed, working in tandem with the finger he had sunk deep inside Jaime, and Jaime writhed beneath him and didn’t even manage to voice a warning before he spilled his seed all over himself and Bronn, crying out.  It was lucky the people next door were so loud; Jaime was far from quiet with it.

“That’s it,” Bronn said lowly, fisting Jaime’s cock and working him a few more times as Jaime shuddered through his climax, tightening around Bronn’s finger inside him while his nails dug into Bronn’s shoulder.  “Next time it’ll be my cock, eh?” Bronn couldn’t keep himself from adding, teasing Jaime with a hard press of his finger and smirking as Jaime groaned.  

He mindlessly tried to bat Bronn’s hand away where he still had hold of his cock, squeezing just enough that Jaime’s thighs were trembling with the stimulation of it—too _much_.  

Bronn finally let go of him and took himself in hand, his palm already slick with Jaime’s spend.  He kept his finger buried inside Jaime for the moment, not wanting him to roll away before Bronn had finished, and Jaime didn’t seem to be complaining.  

He _did_ let out a rough little moan as Bronn moved it, just the smallest slide back and forth, and Jaime blew his breath out in one quick burst.

“ _Bronn_ ,” he said quickly.  “That’s too much, I can’t—”

“Just a bit more, Jaime,” Bronn spoke over him, stroking himself hard and fast, just the way he liked it.  He crooked his finger inside Jaime and watched the expressions play over his face, pleasure and fucked-out exhaustion, green eyes blinking rapidly as Jaime bit down hard on his lip.  

The feeling was different now, without Bronn’s hand on his erect cock—now the sensation of Bronn’s finger inside him was very distinctly the feeling of having something _lodged inside him_ but Jaime didn’t have the energy to complain or squirm away, and it was easier to stay loose for him now.  His cock was stirring the slightest bit, trying valiantly to react to the way Bronn was moving his finger inside him, but it was far too soon—he wasn’t as young as he’d once been.

Distantly, Jaime became aware of what Bronn was doing and he blinked to make himself focus, lifting his left hand and dropping it somewhere in the vicinity of Bronn’s crotch.  “Do you want me to—?”

“No,” Bronn said quickly, letting go of himself to bat Jaime away.  “You just lie there and look pretty.”

Something swooped in Jaime’s gut at that but he didn’t have much time to wonder at why; a few moments later, Bronn tipped his head back and groaned, pulling his finger out of Jaime and grabbing his knee instead to steady himself as he came, hard and fast, stroking himself through it while Jaime watched, oddly fascinated.  

That was, until he realised where Bronn had managed to _aim_ his spill.  “Bronn!” Jaime snapped when he saw the mess that had been made of his tunic, struggling to sit up while Bronn was still sat between his legs.

“Bit of seed won’t hurt ya,” Bronn panted, eyeing Jaime contemplatively for a moment before giving him a light, affectionate tap on the cheek with his still-wet hand.

Jaime’s eyes went round as pennies in furious, wordless indignation and he wiped his face, shoving at Bronn to get him away, but Bronn only looped an arm around his waist and threw himself, chuckling, to one side, using his weight to drag Jaime down to lie next to him.

“Stop ruining my afterglow,” Bronn mumbled with his face buried in a pillow, his arm tight around Jaime.  “Just take it off, you can clean up in the morning.” 

Jaime huffed but he didn’t want to sleep all night in a now filthy tunic, so he tugged it off as directed and wiped his face with it before he tossed it on the floor.

Bronn turned to look at him, taking him in now that there was nothing covering him up, and he let out a satisfied sigh.  “Naked as your nameday,” he grinned.

“Shame it’s a whole year before my next one,” Jaime said casually, the tone belying how nervous he actually was to even suggest anything like that; that they might—maybe—one day do this again.

Bronn hummed.  “Aye,” he agreed.  “But I don’t know when _my_ nameday is.  Probably best to celebrate on most days, really, to make sure I get it.”

Jaime’s lips curled as he relaxed properly, wondering if he ought to find Bronn’s arm around his waist strange or unwanted, if it was wrong that he didn’t.  “I’ll get you a book,” he replied.

“Y’ain’t funny, Kingslayer,” Bronn grumbled at him, but the eye that wasn’t buried in his pillow was bright, crinkled with a grin.  

Jaime laughed quietly and tugged the covers around him, closing his eyes.  

It was the most restful sleep he’d had in months.

 

 

 

 


End file.
